


Talk About Awkward

by pamz



Category: Scorpion (TV 2014)
Genre: Adorable Ferret Cuteness, Angst, But not "there", F/M, Fade to black sex, It's not what you think, Post Season 4 Finale, This popped into my head and wouldn't leave, awkward first date, taking a chance, taking another chance, yeah i went there
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-25
Updated: 2018-06-07
Packaged: 2019-04-27 21:44:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14434710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pamz/pseuds/pamz
Summary: Post Season 4 Finale - It's been 6 months since the split.  Walter realizes he misses having a woman in his life.  So he turns to the one next door. (Please give this a chance.  It's not what you think.)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, I had to go there. I don't know how therapeutic this will be for anyone else but me, but it was something I need to get out evidently because it popped into my brain and wouldn't leave. Plus it's not what you think. Just give it a chance. Please. It's not what you think. Reviews, even flaming ones, will be gladly accepted. It's not what you think.
> 
> And right now this is a very long one-shot, but depending on the response, I may add more. Maybe. We'll see.
> 
> Disclaimer: This story is an amateur, not-for-profit publication produced solely for the enjoyment of other Scorpion fans and is not intended to infringe upon any rights of K/O Paper Products, Blackjack Productions, Perfect Storm Entertainment, SB Films, CBS Television Studios, or anyone else.

Six months. Twenty-six weeks (plus one day). One hundred eighty-three days.

Walter O'Brien stared at the large black numbers on the calendar indicating it was October sixteenth. Had it really been that long? It seemed as if that final argument had taken place only hours earlier. The wounds were still fresh. Every word she'd said to him had been as sharp as a knife, knowing just the right spot to cut so it would do the most damage. 

Then, since wounding him so deeply evidently wasn't enough, she'd hijacked most of his team. The people he'd originally brought together, the ones he'd saw wasting their potential, the ones he'd provided a place where that potential could flourish. . . They'd all sided with her as she started a rival business in what appeared to be a childish attempt to drive his into the ground. At least he stopped that from happening.

And yet. . . He still loved her. He couldn't stop _that_. It wasn't like a faucet he could turn off and on. Not like she could. Word had reached him through the grapevine (if Cabe, Allie, Patty, and Sylvester passing along gossip constituted a grapevine) she'd been dating other men, no one serious apparently, but. . . Yeah. It was still painful to hear. 

Throwing himself into his work had been his lifeline. He'd hired a mechanic, Mack Johnson, a borderline genius who couldn't touch Happy's expertise with a 25 foot measuring tape. But he got the job done. 

Allie had become office manager by default. She and Cabe were spending most of their time together so it made sense she come work at the garage. She'd never been happy working for Patel anyway. 

When he'd advertised for a behaviorist, the last person he expected to apply would have been Quincy Birkstead. But the clinical psychologist had and Walter had hired him. Mostly because he felt somewhat responsible for the man's fall from grace over the bunker incident. But then there was the added bonus of pissing off Toby, who, rumor had it, had gone bat shit crazy over the news. It was satisfying Quincy had become an more than adequate replacement, and not just because he wasn't Toby. But Walter had to admit that helped.

Florence had stayed and became a full-fledged member of the team. Her expertise had become invaluable, making him realize he should have sought out a chemist years ago. And of course, Cabe had stuck by his side, for which he was extremely grateful. But he'd seen the sadness in the older man's eyes, knowing the agent missed the others as much as he did.

Because it just wasn't the same. But then maybe that was a good thing. The new team all worked together in an efficient manner. No drama, no nonsense, no learning more about his co-workers's sex lives than he ever wanted to know. But there was also no warmth, no camaraderie. . . The feeling of family just wasn't there.

It had been tough going at first. Team Centipede had suctioned off half of the jobs which otherwise would have gone to Team Scorpion. Thankfully, Homeland had honored their contract, although Walter wondered what kinds of strings Cabe had pulled on his behalf.

So despite everything, Scorpion 2.0 was keeping its head above water. Barely.

And while his business affairs were in order, his personal life was a complete mess. In the eleven months and fifteen days he and Paige had been together, he'd grown used to a woman's touch. Which was strange since he'd lived most of his thirty-five years without it. It wasn't just the intimacy he craved, but just being with her; working together, cuddling on the couch watching old movies, hearing her moving around his loft. It was pathetic how much he missed her.

It was time he moved on. Seek out other female companionship. And he already had a candidate in mind.

He'd become aware of Florence in the past few months, after he'd gotten past the worst of his pain. She was a brilliant chemist, an excellent team member, enjoyed many of the same pursuits he did. They seemed to get along, working together in a cordial manner. She understood when a problem or project captured his attention and he neglected everything (and everyone) until it was solved. 

Walter had no idea if she was still harboring feelings for him. She'd never mentioned them again after that horrific evening when his whole world had tilted upside down. Glancing over at her as she sat at what used to be Sylvester's desk, pouring over the calculations of a formula she was working on as a side project.

It had taken him several days, actually closer to a week, to make his decision and work up his nerve. Getting to his feet, he tried to casually walk toward her, all the while feeling as if he'd stripped himself naked.

"Hey," he said when he came to a stop in front of her. "I need to ask you a question."

She made a moue, something he noticed she often did when she was confused. "Sure," she replied., closing her file. "It's not about my work with Styrofoam Solutions, is it?"

"Uh, no, nothing like that." _Just say it_. There was no pretty way to do it, no candy coating to make it more palatable. "I, um, I've been wondering if you. . .you still lu. . .er, still have those feelings for me? You know. . . Or have they faded?"

"Oh." She tightened her grip on her folder. "Total honesty?" she asked, arching an eyebrow.

"I'd appreciate it." He took a deep breath, girding himself for another blistering diatribe about how defective he was.

"There are some residual feelings," she stated, lowering her eyes. "They're not as intense as they once were." She glanced back up at him. "Why do you want to know?

"I'd like to attempt a romantic relationship with you," he said. He saw immediately he had shocked her. Her eyes grew wide and her mouth dropped open. She tried to speak but only managed to emit incoherent squeaks.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean. . ." He sighed in defeat. "It's just I've grown fond of you. And we work well together. And have similar interests." He aimed his gaze down at his shoes. "And I would like a female companion."

"So this would just be a sexual. . .?" 

"No. . . No," he answered quickly. "No. Not if you don't. . ." He was bungling this badly. Big surprise. He needed to lay all his cards down on the table. "I don't know if I'll ever love you like I love. . ." Paige's name stuck in his throat and he had to wait for it to clear. "I mean I don't think I can ever love someone else. But if you can accept that. . . I, uh. . .I'd like to give us a shot."

"Walter. . ." She didn't finish her sentence as she stared up at him as if she were trying to read his mind.

"Okay, forget. . ."

"Can I think about it?" She smiled nervously. "It's a lot to take in."

"Of course." Well, she hadn't turned him down outright. But it brought up another concern. "It's just. . .I have a couple of tickets to that new Hubble presentation at the planetarium on Friday night. I'm not trying to bribe you," he added when she frowned. "I just need to know if I should take someone else."

"Yes."

"Yes?" 

"Yes, I'll go with you to the presentation, and yes, I'd like to attempt a romantic relationship with you." She flashed him another anxious smile and he wondered if she was already second guessing herself. 

"Good." Not sure what to do with himself, he twisted from side to side before turning to his right and heading toward the kitchen. A small flicker of happiness flared inside him. But it was almost instantly quashed by the overwhelming guilt which swept over him. 

He shook his head as he poured a cup of coffee. Paige was gone and he needed to accept she was never coming back. He had to move on unless he wanted to spend the rest of his life alone. Being with Paige had showed him how lonely his life had been before he met her. And not only that, his time with her and Ralph had stirred up a desire to have a child of his own, which would never happen if he retreated to his previous monk-like lifestyle. The thought of going back to such a sterile existence. . .

It didn't assuage his conscience though. Being with Florence, any woman really, felt like he was cheating on the love of his life. He closed his eyes, trying to fend off their growing dampness as sorrow welled up inside him.

_____

Friday night arrived all too soon. Walter stood outside the door leading to Florence's lab. There was something wrong with his breathing. His heart was acting funny as well. His skin felt too tight. And his gut. . . He'd heard of the expression "butterflies in the stomach" before. . . Well, butterflies would have been welcome compared to the pterodactyls currently slamming around his abdomen.

Inhaling deeply, he knocked on the metal surface. Florence must have been standing on the other side, because the door was immediately flung open. "Hi, Walter," she said, giving him one of her tentative smiles. She looked pleasant enough, dressed in a beige sweater and brown floral skirt. She also smelled like flowers. He wasn't sure which ones. He just knew they weren't lavender.

"Sorry we have to leave so early," he said. "But the program starts at seven and if we waited until afterward to eat. . ."

"It's fine." She stepped out into the alley and locked the door behind her. Dropping her keys into a small brown purse, she glanced up at him. "I usually eat dinner no later than six anyway. Gives the food time to digest before bedtime." 

They talked about the planetarium program during the car ride to the chain restaurant he picked out. Once they were seated, Walter perused his menu, mentally debating his choices. He wasn't really hungry. The pterodactyls seemed have taken up permanent residence in his stomach.

"Oh, dear." He peered around the edge of his menu to note the dismay on Florence's face. 

"What's wrong?" he asked.

"I'm not seeing any vegan options," she complained, flipping over the garish plastic coated menu. "Oh, here they are." Looking them over, she shook her head. "Everything has soy in it. I'm allergic to soy."

"There should be something. . ." he began, cursing himself for not asking if she had any food preferences. He'd never been to this particular restaurant before, deliberately picking a place he had not frequented with Paige. There hadn't been much choice in a price range he could afford these days.

"They have a green salad. Oh, nope," she said.

He glanced at the salad list, wondering what she could find objectionable about lettuce, tomatoes, red cabbage, and shaved carrots. His confusion must have shown on his face because she offered an explanation. "Carrots, I'm allergic to them."

"You could tell them not to. . ."

"Oh, I've tried that before. They usually forget." She sighed. "I'm sorry. I don't mean to be so picky. I just have a lot of food allergies."

"No, it's okay," he tried to say, but before he got the words out of his mouth, she began listing all the food she couldn't eat. He couldn't help but notice most of them were vegetables or protein substitutes. So if she was a vegan, what the hell did she eat? Honestly, she was worse than Sly. . .

The thought of the younger genius cause a pang of regret to resonate through him. Shoving the unsettling thoughts to the back of his head, he plastered a smile on his face.

Florence had finally settled on a rice pilaf by the time their waitress had returned. Despite the fact he really had no appetite, he ordered a chicken pasta dish with a house salad.

"So, the presentation sounds exciting, doesn't it," she said brightly as they waited for their food. 

"Uh yeah." They'd already discussed this in the car. "You said you were really looking forward to it."

"Oh, of course." She made the little moue with her mouth again. "I'm sorry, I'm just really nervous."

"Me, too." 

"I did some research," she began, "on safe topics to talk about on a first date. I found an app. . . I mean. . . I'm sorry. It's not like I've already run out of things to say. It's like my head is a total blank."

He could understand that. His brain felt like mush. "The app sounds interesting. I say let's give it a try."

Florence fished her cell out of her purse and quickly brought up the app. "Okay, first question," she announced. "First movie you ever watched." 

Walter had to think for a moment. "The Wizard of Oz. My sister. . .uh, she loved it. . ." Mentally wincing, he realized bringing up Megan might not be ideal. Not only because she and Sly had been married, but he still had trouble dealing with her death. It was at times like this he really missed her; her love of life, her ability to drive him out of his shell, the way she never pulled her punches with him. 

"Okay, next question," she said crisply, obviously sensing his discomfort. "Do you want to ask me, or shall I continue. . ?"

"You. . go ahead," he managed to say.

"First time on an airplane."

An easy one. "Flying from Dublin to New York when I was sixteen." 

Florence sat up a little straighter. "What did you do in New York? 

"I moved there."

"At sixteen?" She sounded surprised

"Yes. I'd received my junior leaving certificate and I'd been. . ."

"Wait. . .a what?"

"A junior leaving certificate. It's the Irish equivalent of a high school diploma."

"You're from Ireland? But you don't have an accent." 

A tedious discussion of his lack of an Irish accent lasted until their meals were brought to them. Florence picked at her plate, separating bits of something from the rest of the food. His chicken Alfredo was overdone and dry, but he forced it down anyway.

"Did you still want to play?" she asked after more than a few minutes of silence passed. "The questions, I mean."

"Sure." Anything to distract him from his mediocre food and discomfort about talking about Ireland.

"Okay, here's the next one. Oh. . ." Her cheeks flushed pink. "Maybe we should skip this one."

"Why? What is it?" 

"First time. . .having sex." She stared at her phone as if she wasn't sure she'd read it correctly. It did seem to him like an odd question to bring up on a first date. "You don't have to answer it. . ."

"No, if this. . .you and I. . .if it succeeds. . ." he began, "you'll find out anyway." Setting his fork down on the table, he stared at his lap. "Paige. She was my first."

"Really? No, I believe you," she assured him. "It's just. . . Wow." She slid her cell back into her purse. "In the spirit of fairness. . ."

"You don't have to. . ."

"No, I want to. Like you said, if this. . .succeeds, you'll find out anyway." She reached for her water and took a sip. "My first time was when I got drunk at frat party when I was a freshman in college. I don't remember much of what happened and I don't know if I ever knew his name." She glanced down at her lap. "There's only been one other guy since, someone I dated a few years ago for about six months."

Neither of them said much the rest of the meal, and they both declined the offer of dessert. Once Walter paid the check, they headed to the planetarium.

_____

The Hubble presentation turned out to be a success, mainly because there had been little need to converse. Florence did place her hand on his as they were gazing up the other worldly images sent back to Earth from the giant telescope. He wasn't sure if the contact had been an accident or an "accident." Although it hardly mattered. Her hand had felt warm against his and. . .that was it. No tingle, no spark, no electric current charging through his body, stirring his every nerve, stimulating his libido. Not like the way Paige's touch had. . .

Nope, he wasn't going to think about _her_. Not if he wanted this experiment to flourish.

He'd been filled with hope as they drove back to the garage. They'd talked about the program, getting into a lively discussion about gas giants. But they'd both became quiet as he walked her to the door of her lab. Like him, she had living quarters on the upper floor of her side of the building. They stood outside, trying to avoid directly looking at each other.

"So, you do want to come in? Maybe a cup of coffee?" she asked, breaking their self-conscious silence.

"Uh, sure, if it's no trouble."

"No, no trouble at all." His anxiety grew as she led him upstairs. He'd visited her laboratory before on several occasions. A couple of their cases had involved the use of her equipment. And he knew she'd been in his loft before, just not since the team had been torn into two. Seeing her living space should have been no big deal. But for some reason, it was.

She was in her tiny kitchen, scooping coffee into an overly complicated looking machine. He glanced at her sparsely decorated rooms. Like him, she was a minimalist, choosing function over form.

"So that's going to take a few minutes." He jumped as she came up behind him. 

"Okay."

"So, I've been thinking," she began, "and, well only if you agree, of course, if you would want to take this romantic endeavor a step further?"

Walter froze. _Oh, shit._ She wasn't talking about intercourse, was she? He was positive he wouldn't be agreeable to that. He knew he'd never be able to deliver. Dating was one thing. Sex. It wasn't going to happen. Especially not tonight.

"Uh, how much further. . .?"

His expression must have given away what he'd been thinking. "Oh, no, not. . .not that," she said in a rush. "I was thinking maybe a kiss?"

"A kiss?" Hmm, he could do that. He hoped so anyway.

"Yes. Maybe you should tell me about the one we shared in your dream?" she suggested. "What was it like? Did you enjoy it?"

Memories of the dream kiss flooded his brain. He remembered why it had disturbed him so much, why it had made him feel so guilty. He _had_ enjoyed it. It had been stimulating, had stirred his lust. That was why it had been so confusing, why he'd felt like he'd cheated on Paige. 

"Yes," he admitted. He told her the rest of the details of the dream. 

"Oh." She appeared to be shock, and he thought possibly a little bit sad. He didn't like the idea he'd hurt her, but she'd wanted to know.

"So, do you want a comparison?"

Did he? What if he enjoyed the real thing? What if it was better than kissing Paige? His whole world could be turned upside again. He still hadn't recovered from the last time his life had shifted tumultuously.

But he needed to know, to move on. He wanted someone who would accept him for who and what he was. It was crystal clear that woman would never be Paige. He had to forget her and take a chance on someone else who could make him happy.

"Yes," he finally said, "I would like to kiss you."

"Okay." Neither of them moved. He wondered if the smile on his face appeared similar to the grimace on hers. 

Taking a step forward at the same time she did, he leaned in at the same time she did, tilted his head in the same direction she tilted hers. Realizing one of them needed to switch, he angled his head in the opposite direction. Unfortunately, she did as well. 

She giggled as he tilted his head once more. Swallowing nervously, he moved toward her as the same time as she did. He pulled back, she pulled back. He leaned in, she leaned in. Their lips hovered millimeters away from each other.

A rush of anticipation flowed over Walter. This kiss. It could change his whole life.

He caught the flicker of frustration in Florence's eyes a second before she pressed her mouth on his. After the initial surprise, he noticed her lips felt. . .dry. That was it, just dry. Worrying he wasn't putting enough effort into it, he slid his lips over hers, swiping at them with his tongue. She gasped, her mouth opening up, and his tongue slipped inside a lot farther than he'd planned. 

She gagged a little, then seemed to recover, only to convulse again as their tongues rubbed against each other. She pushed him away, an unnecessary gesture as he was already distancing himself. 

"Oh." She covered her mouth, muffling her next words. "I think I'm going to be sick." Spinning on her heel, she rushed off in what he presumed was the direction of her bathroom. The door had barely slammed before he could hear her retching.

Fighting his own nausea, he realized kissing Florence had been one of the most disgusting things he'd ever done. And that was saying something. He'd done some pretty disgusting stuff, like sticking his hand into raw sewage to find Toby's stupid key ring.

This experiment, this endeavor, this kiss, had been an utter disaster. And one he knew he would never replicate. He suspected she'd reached the same conclusion when she emerged from the bathroom. 

"Sorry." They were once again avoiding each other's eyes.

"No, I"m sorry," he said. And he was. This had been one of the biggest mistakes he'd ever made. "Will you be okay?"

"I promise not to vomit any more if you promise not to kiss me again," she said with a wry smile.

"Okay."

"I think we just annihilated whatever feelings for you I had left," she stated. "There was never anything romantic between us, was there?"

He shook his head. "No, not on my part. I'm sorry if you thought my interest in you was anything but platonic. I didn't. . . It was never intentional."

"Oh, I know." She bobbled her head from side to side. "It's the old story; strange lonely female misinterprets gestures of friendship from an equally strange male, one who she knew was in a relationship with another woman." She lifted her head, meeting his gaze. "She's the only one for you, isn't she?"

He nodded. "I can't explain it, I never used to believe in love, but since the day I met her. . ." Tears threatened to spill as his throat closed up.

"It's okay," she said, stretching out her hand, hesitating for a moment before patting his arm. "I'll be okay. I hope you can be okay too."

"Little hope of that," he said, his voice rough. "But thanks."

A beep startled both of them until Walter realized it was the coffee maker.

"Do you still want. . ." She waved her hand toward the device on the counter.

He stuffed his hands in his jacket pocket. "No, I best be going." 

"Uh, we can still be friends, right? No hard feelings?" she asked. She smiled at him, a sad little smile which told him she'd lied earlier when she'd said she was totally over him. But she had to know as well as he did they were romantically and sexually incompatible. This evening had more than proved that hypothesis.

"Friends sounds good," he replied, remembering back to when they'd first met, when he didn't think they'd even be good neighbors. They'd both come a long way.

"All right, good night, Walter

"Good night, Florence," he replied. "See ya Monday?"

"Yeah, see ya Monday." He noticed her lips tightened a split second before he turned to leave.

_____

Walter let himself out of her lab, his heart heavy. Evidently he'd been right all along. Correct in his assumption he was too weird, too odd, too much of a burden, to find a woman he was both attracted to and who could love him despite all his flaws.

He'd thought he'd found that woman in Paige. And look how wrong he'd been about her. No, ever since he'd been a child, he'd knew he would eventually be alone in the world. It was time he accepted that fact.

He walked back into his empty half of the garage and sighed as he shut the door behind him.

______

**FIN**

(maybe?)


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woo-hoo! I wrote a chapter two. It's much shorter and from Paige's POV.
> 
> There's going to be a chapter three as well.

She felt like she'd just slammed into a brick wall.

Her stomach dropping to her feet, Paige stumbled as she walked into the restaurant and saw _him_. With _her_. Together and evidently out on a date.

She'd heard from Sylvester, who'd heard it from Patty, who in turn, had heard it from Allie, who had been told by Cabe there had been no hanky-panky between them since she'd left. That they weren't a couple. That they were nothing more than professional colleagues. Obviously someone had lied or they'd managed to keep their romance a secret from the rest of their team.

"If you'll come this way, ma'am, sir." The waitress's request startled her from her bitter thoughts. She still hadn't totally focused on where she was going until she saw the server was leading them to an empty table directly across from the other couple. Paige nearly tripped again as she stopped in her tracks. 

"Oh, could we get a seat by the window?" she asked. "Is that table taken?" She pointed to a booth, which if she was gauging it right, would let her spy without been noticed. "If that's all right with you?" she said as she turned to her dinner companion who nodded.

Chad Colchester owned a chain of health spas in the Greater Los Angeles area and was looking for ways to beef up his security. He was typical of the men she'd met since starting her new business. Mid 40ish, not too bad looking despite a receding hairline with a bad combover, wearing too much cologne. . . Not that she was interested in him. . .or any of them for that matter.

It was all part of the wining and dining of clients she'd engaged in over the past few months. There were only so many private contracts out there, and Team Scorpion 2.0 or whatever they were calling themselves these days, were scooping up nearly half of them. Which didn't seem fair as they were still getting government funding Team Centipede wasn't. Guess it paid to have a federal agent in your pocket. 

Plus there were at least a hundred different companies in the Greater Los Angeles area which provided the same services as hers did. But none of them had the reputation of Scorpion and its genius boss, Walter O'Brien.

Her company's early successes had made her overconfident. She rented a non-funky smelling suite of rooms in a modern office building in a good neighborhood. Had matching team shirts made up in a rainbow of colors. Splurged on posh office furnishings. Bought every electronic gadget she thought they needed and some they probably didn't. And now she was up to her ass in debt.

So far she'd been able to hide the precarious financial situation from her employees. Toby and Happy were still deep in debt as well due to their wedding and the fertility treatments. Paige had been deliberating taking less of a salary to pay them extra. She'd even dipped into the money her mother had left for Ralph's education. But the books still weren't balancing.

And speaking of Ralph. . . He hadn't totally reverted to his pre-Walter form, but . . . Oh, God, it was close. His grades were suffering, he only spoke when spoken to, he avoided looking her in the eye. And if he accidentally made contact, the sadness she saw was almost too much for her to bear. He was as miserable as she was.

After she and her future client were seated, she kept sneaking peeks across the room instead of listening to Chad, as he insisted she call him, drone on about himself. Walter looked tired and thinner than the last time she'd seen him, outside of Gettleman's office, where her then fledgling business swiped that contract right from under his nose. He was still as handsome as ever though. Shivers slid down her spine as she remembered the last time they'd been together, which seemed like yesterday yet also felt like years ago. 

Glancing over at him again, she thought he looked irritated by whatever his ‘date' was saying. Trouble in paradise? She knew she was being catty, but. . . Dammit, it still hurt. And what hurt the most were the horrible things she'd said to him. Because none of them were true. So, okay, he had quirks which bothered her, but nothing she couldn't deal with. She was no picnic herself. 

She missed him so much.

"Oh, I'm sorry," she said as Chad cleared his throat. Her face grew warm at the thought she'd been caught not listening. "You were saying?"

"I was wondering about your team's ability to provide 24 hours surveillance while also protecting my members' privacy?"

"Oh." Paige rattled off the little speech she'd prepared listing just what services Team Centipede could provide. They talked business until their food arrived.

The first forkful of her salad hung in midair as she noticed Walter and Florence getting up from their table. It was painful to watch, but not for the reasons she thought it would be. It was obvious they were uncomfortable around each other, the way they would nearly touch then shy away. And their faces. Paige had seen less scary grimaces on jack-o'-lanterns. 

Was it possible this was their first date? That they'd waited. . .had it really been over six months?. . .before going out? Did it mean Walter finally given up on her? She set her fork down, any appetite she had left fleeing. _Oh, God_.

She picked at her food for the rest of the meal. Chad insisted she order a dessert, his treat. "You've convinced me," he said, wearing a broad smile. "You. . .and your team. . .are just what I need."

"That's great," she replied with false enthusiasm. "I'll have the contract sent over first thing in the morning for you to sign."

He reached across the table and placed his hand on top of hers, rubbing his fingertips over her knuckles. "I've reserved us a hotel room," he announced, "so we can consummate our deal. I'm hoping you'll be too busy to do anything else first thing in the morning."

Her eyes were drawn to the gold wedding band on his left ring finger. Her stomach heaved as she snatched her hand away. "Are. . .are you. . .serious?" she stammered indignantly. 

Chad looked confused. "You came highly recommended by Charlie Bennett." Paige had trouble placing the name until she remember he was the owner of several used car dealerships around town. Creepy little man, always trying to leer down her shirt. She shuddered.

"He told me how he'd sealed the deal with you after he agreed to hire your firm." Chad lowered his eyes, aiming them directly at the vee of her blouse.

"That's not true." She shook with anger. "He's a liar."

"It's all over town you put out for clients. Why do you think anyone is interested in Team Centipede? We could get better and less expensive security from Scorpion. But their owner's not my type." He laughed nastily.

Grabbing up her purse and sweater, she jumped up out of her chair. She hesitated for a moment, wanting to slap the smirk from Chad's slimy face but decided he wasn't worth it. He would probably have her arrested for assault. She hissed "Go to hell" instead before storming out of the restaurant.

It wasn't until she walked out on the sidewalk she remembered the bastard had picked her up and she didn't have a vehicle. "Shit." Saying the dirty word felt good. She let out a few more slip out, and they were just as satisfying. She took in several cleansing breaths before exhaling.

So Centipede was only getting clients was because everyone thought she was sleeping with them. That explained why several of her ‘dinner companions' hadn't signed with the team. Wondering how a rumor like that even got started, another thought occurred to her. Oh, God, she needed to leave before Chad came out and found her dawdling outside the restaurant, thinking she had changed her mind.

Looking up one side of the street, then down the other, she wasn't sure which way to go. Then she heard footsteps behind her. Not turning around to see who it was, she headed off down the street.

_____

Ugh, her legs were tired. Her feet were killing her. And her flimsy sweater did little to ward off the nip of autumn in the night air. She'd walked several miles, no particular destination in mind, although she'd stayed on busy, well-lit streets.

Stopping and taking a good look at her surroundings, Paige realized the area was familiar. Too familiar. In fact, if she turned the next corner and traveled to the next block, she knew exactly where'd she be. At a place where she was no longer welcomed. 

She slipped off her heels, the relief almost instantaneous as her bare feet met the cool concrete. She didn't even hesitate as she headed toward the garage. It was like she was being drawn there by one of those big magnets Walter always liked to talk about. 

She noticed as she approached the run-down brick building there were no lights on inside. Staring upward, she wondered if Walter was up in his loft at that very moment, making love to Florence. _Oh, God_. . . Pain sliced through her, and she did her best not to throw up. 

Glancing around as she tamped down her nausea, she didn't see his car. He might have parked inside, something he rarely did, however. They were probably still out, enjoying some nerdy entertainment. Something she'd once disdained, but now. . .

Her pride told her to just call for a ride and go home. . . But her pride had gotten her into this mess in the first place. She needed to swallow it if she ever wanted to be happy again. Sighing deeply, she move toward the door.

She punched in the entry code, which didn't work. Of course he'd changed it. Knowing she had only two more chances before a silent alarm was tripped, she cleared her mind, trying to guess what number combination Walter's genius brain would use. 

The corner of her mouth twitched as she typed in another series of numbers and received a beep and a green light. Cautiously she stepped inside.

As her eyes adjusted to the lack of light, she saw, other than the code, not a lot had changed. All the furniture remained in the same places. What used to be Happy's workstation was much neater though; tools put away in their proper places, no large pieces of rusty scrap metal lying about. 

Stepping further inside, she came to a halt several feet away from the desk which used to be hers. All her mementos had been replaced with similar ones in a color palette that fairly screamed another woman was now sitting in her chair. There was even a vase of wilting roses in one corner. 

A sob tore through her. Was Florence not only occupying her desk, but also her place in Walter's heart? 

Spinning around as her eyes blurred, she then realized she was face to face with his workstation. Everything was the same, she noted as she circled around behind it. Paige gasped when she discovered the one thing which had changed. A picture of her, Walter, and Ralph taken at the beach, one which he'd proudly displayed, had been altered. It showed just him and her son now. She'd been erased.

Futilely wiping at her tears, cursing herself for being a masochist, she climbed the stairs to his loft. It, too, had remained the same. She shamelessly snooped around, not finding any evidence the blonde chemist had made herself at home. No makeup, no clothes, no feminine touches like the ones she'd once provided. Touches she noticed had now been removed.

Her legs trembled as she approached his bed, her heart pounding its way out of her chest. They'd spent their first night together there. Swallowing past the lump in her throat, she recalled how sweet he'd been, how nervous, how shy he'd been as he confessed he'd never been intimate with anyone before. Not that it made any difference. It had still been the most romantic, erotic night of her life.

He'd never answered her question the next morning, if it had been worth waiting three years for. That had bothered her until she realized he had answered it, with every kiss, every touch, every whispered "I love you." He'd waited a lot longer than three years. He'd waited his whole life for her. 

And she'd tossed it all back in his face. Because she'd been jealous. And insecure. And if she was going to be honest with herself, a total bitch. She'd known deep down nothing had been going on between him and Florence. They'd forged a friendship, the same way he was friends with Happy. And God. . .he'd actually been married to Happy. She never even questioned if anything romantic had happened between them. She just knew it hadn't. She should have given him the same benefit of the doubt with the chemist. 

Which brought up another interesting question - if Florence had been a man, would it have bothered her so much Walter had found a friend to connect with on an intellectual level? She bit her lip as she realized the answer was no. So, not only was she a jealous, insecure bitch, she was a sexist as well. Crap.

She jumped when she heard a rustling noise. Oh, God, had Walter come back? Then chittering accompanied the rustling and she realized it was Ferret Bueller. She located his cage, where the little critter stirred excitedly. She unlatched the door and lifted him out. 

He wiggled happily as she held him against her chest, trying to burrow himself down her blouse. "You aren't the first guy to try to weasel his way into my shirt tonight," she said with a wry chuckle.

She carried him over to the couch and sat down, dropping her shoes on the floor. Tucking her legs up under her, she leaned back as she rumpled the ferret's fur.

"Did you miss me, little fella?" she asked, not expecting a response. She received one anyway as the ferret squeaked back at her. Holding him up so she could see his face, she continued, "I missed you." She pulled him to her chest where she let him squirm his way into her blouse. His little heart beat next to hers as he yawned. 

"I miss him, too. I miss him so much." A whimper escaped her throat. "I should have never left him."

"Then why did you?"


	3. Chapter 3

Walter quietly closed the door behind him as he entered the garage. Even though he'd come to terms with the fact he would be alone the rest of his life, it still hurt. He knew now he'd never be truly happy with anyone else. That the pain of being alone was actually preferable to being with someone he'd never love.

He'd thought he'd found the answer in Florence. He might have been content with her, or someone like her. . . Someone logical and like-minded. Someone who would have been content with him and his quirks . . If he had never met Paige. . .

But he had met her. And he loved her. He loved everything about her. Her smile. Her touch. The way she said his name. The way she always smelled like. . . 

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Then another. Lavender tickled his nose, as strong and alluring as if she were standing next to him. How was that possible? She hadn't stepped foot in the garage for over six months. The light floral perfume had lingered for a couple of weeks, growing fainter until one day he poignantly realized it was gone.

Following the scent trail, he walked over to the staircase. As he climbed upward, he could hear Ferret Bueller chittering, then heard a human voice. Someone was in his loft. 

As stealthily as he could, he reached the top of the stairs and entered his living quarters. He was only a few steps inside when he had to stifle a gasp as a voice he instantly recognized spoke again.

"Did you miss me, little fella?" 

Peering around the corner, he saw Paige holding up the ferret, looking at his furry face. "I missed you," she continued, pulling him to her chest. Bueller squirmed his way inside her blouse, resting between her breasts and yawning smugly. Walter had never been so envious of an animal in his life.

"I miss him too. I miss him so much." What sounded like a sob escape her throat. "I should have never left him."

He couldn't believe what he was hearing. Wondering if he'd been in a car wreck or perhaps had fallen down the stairs again and had hallucinated the whole evening, he emerged from the shadows where he'd been lurking.

"Then why did you?"

"Walter." Jumping to her feet, she extracted the squirming ferret from her shirt. The sound of his name on her lips twisted his stomach into knots and the pterodactyls lodged inside didn't like it. 

"How did you get in here?" he asked, not as harshly as he should have. "I changed the entry code."

She chuckled nervously. "You should have changed it to something other than Ralph's birthday. It was the first combination I tried."

He ran a hand through his hair. "Yeah, probably." Aiming his gaze at his feet, he asked, "So why did you? Leave me, I mean."

"I saw you two tonight," she said instead of answering his question and he could hear the bitterness in her voice. "At the restaurant. . ."

He'd deliberately chosen a place they'd never frequented together, which must mean she'd done the same with. . .with one of the men she was dating. 

"Not that I should have to explain myself to you," he said defensively. "It was the first time. . ."

He watched as her face paled. "Did you. . .did you sleep with her?" 

"No." He lowered his gaze. "Not that it's any of your business. Have you slept with any of the men you've been dating?"

"What?" Her outburst spooked the ferret, who hopped out of her hands and scurried away . "I haven't been dating anyone. Who told you that?"

He drew in a sharp breath. The grapevine had been wrong. She hadn't been dating other men. A heavy weight lifted from his chest. "Doesn't matter," he said as he shook his head. "I, uh. . ."

"I've been taking potential clients out to dinner." Her expression grew pensive. "Oh, God. . . That must be why they think. . ." She sat back down on his couch, dropping her head into her hands. "Oh, God," she said again, her voice muffled. "On top of everything else, I'm an idiot."

"No, you're not." He watched as she straightened, swiping uselessly at her cheeks. 

"Is that why you. . .why you went out with her?" she asked.

"One of the reasons," he conceded. "It was an attempt to see if Fl, er, if she and I would be compatible."

"And were you?"

"No. She, uh, she threw up after I kissed her." He stared back down at the floor, bracing himself for the sound of her mocking laughter.

But it never arrived. Glancing back up, he saw her confusion. "She threw up? Was she sick?"

"No. Apparently I disgusted her. I was not as repulsed to the point she was, but. . . Repulsed nonetheless." 

Paige bit her lip, something which never failed to stir him. "I don't what to say. ‘I'm sorry' seems . . .wrong. Especially since I'm not." Her mouth quirked for a second. "Kinda makes me a bitch, doesn't it?"

"No, you're not a. . .that." She was driving him crazy. Sitting on his couch. Looking so damn beautiful. It was as if the last six months had never happened. He wanted her so much. Too much.

And he didn't even know why she was there. Jealousy over seeing him and Florence together? She'd obviously hadn't come to gloat to his face about being with other men. So why. . .

"So why are you here?" he asked, putting his thoughts into words. 

"Ralph misses you. The others miss you too. . .even though they'd never admit it." She picked at the sofa cushion. "And I miss you."

"I thought I exhausted you. That I was immature and boring. . ." He turned his head away as his vision began to blur. "That I didn't. . .I d-didn't satisfy you. . ." 

"I'm so sorry," she said. "I was lashing out because I was hurt and my pride was hurt and. . . I was jealous and insecure and. . ." Pausing to catch her breath, she added, "I'm so sorry for all those awful things I said. None of them were true and. . ."

"They were true enough," he cut in. "True enough to hurt me. As you intended. Because I'd hurt you. Which I had been trying to avoid."

She hung her head, staring down at her hands resting on the top of her thighs. "I know that now." Clearing her throat, she continued, "I was always the one pushing for open and honest communication between us. Then I go and do something stupid, like telling you to lie to me to spare my feelings. If I'd been honest about not wanting to go to the lecture in the first place. . . None of this would have happened."

"I overheard you telling Ralph you didn't want to go," he said. "I heard you say you'd rather be back in the swamp with the alligators than attend it with me." Remembering those words, how they'd wounded him as surely as any weapon. . . All the emotions he thought he'd gotten over came bubbling back to the surface. The pain. . . The anger. . . The dread. . .

Wincing, she lifted her eyes to meet his. "You heard that?" Walter nodded, not trusting himself to speak. "Oh, God, you weren't supposed to. . . Oh, God, is that why. . .? Oh, God. . ." She slumped against the back of the sofa. "This was totally my fault, wasn't it?"

He opened his mouth to protest, but she shook her head. "No, you still should have told me you took her. . .Florence instead. I probably wouldn't have been happy about it but. . . But those are my insecure jealousy issues to deal with, not yours. . ."

"I tried to follow your rules," he replied. "And you're right, I should have told you. I let it go on for far longer than I should have until your feelings were going to be hurt no matter what I did. And I'm sorry for that. But you should have told me you didn't want to go in the first place." 

"I know." She blew out a stream of air, ruffling the strands of hair hanging over her face. "I hate the idea that Mark Collins was right. That we're too different. That I'm fruit punch and you're fermented fish and that no matter how hard we try, we'll never be compatible."

"No." Walter took a step toward her. "Collins was wrong. _Is_ wrong. Not about the fact that we're different. Of course we are. I knew from the day I met you, you were different. I recognized I needed you, and your difference, in my life. It's why I offered you a job with Scorpion in the first place."

"I thought you wanted to help me. . .and Ralph. That you wanted to help us. . ."

"I did. I still do." He inched even closer, close enough to smell the sweet earthy scent of her lavender. His body began to stir, trembling at the thought of them. . .together. . intimately. He quickly doused his prurient thoughts. They were a distraction he couldn't afford right now. 

"I might as well admit it, my team. . .Centipede. . . Well, I got cocky and now I'm in over my head. I thought I didn't need Homeland. . .or you. . . And I was wrong." She exhaled softly. "The others, Toby, Happy, Sly, they're all miserable. And Ralph. . . Oh, God, he's not the same without you. His grades. . . His attitude. . . I'm so worried about him. . ." She glanced up at him, her eyes damp with unshed tears.

"I've been worried about him too. I've wanted to contact him. But I wasn't sure if. . ." He trailed off, his concern for the young genius making it hard to speak.

"We've made such a huge mess of this, haven't we?" 

"Yes." And he didn't know how to fix it. It had to be harder than just apologizing to each other then falling into bed. A prospect he would welcome with open arms. But then they were never physically incompatible. And even he knew there had to be more to a lasting relationship than just intimacy.

"So what do we do about it?" she asked, interrupting his musing. "These past six months. . . I've felt so incomplete. . . Like half of me is missing."

"Me, too," he admitted. He waved his hand at the empty space beside her on the sofa and she nodded. He sat down about a foot away, close enough to be unnerved by her presence, distant enough he could hopefully restrain himself.

"We could try counseling," she suggested. "Maybe Dr Rizzuto could help?"

Walter sighed. "I suppose we could give it a try," he acquiesced. Personally he thought the therapist was a flake. Although the man had helped repair the worst of the rift between him and Toby. And he had helped Happy and Toby with their premarital concerns. But. . .

"I've already received a lot of unsolicited and contradictory advice from people who I thought were my friends. . . My family. ‘Tell her how you feel.' ‘Don't tell her how you feel.' ‘Tell her you lied, but don't hurt her feelings.' ‘Don't tell her you lied because you'll hurt her feelings.' ‘Go after her if you want her.' ‘Back off and let Tim have her. . .'"

" Wait. What?" Paige glanced up sharply at him He could almost feel the sparks of anger shooting off of her. "Who told you to let Tim have me?" 

"Who didn't?" he grumbled. "Toby, Cabe, Happy. . . I don't think Sylvester ever voiced an opinion but he probably agreed. Ralph was the only one who thought I shouldn't have given up so easily. I should have listened to him. He _is_ the smartest one of us."

She sat there with her mouth hanging open for a moment or two. "Walter, when did they say that to you? About Tim. . . "

"After Tahoe. They told me I wasn't ready for a relationship with you. That I was only half-baked emotionally. That I should let you be with Tim and if I lost you, I lost you."

"That doesn't make any sense. Why would they tell you that?"

"Because when we were waiting for Homeland to come pick us up after the missile blew up the white building, I said I came to Tahoe to tell you I love you." He hung his head. "And everyone heard over the comms. . . Everyone except you."

"You told me you loved me. . ." Her breath caught in her throat. "You loved. . . You've loved me for that long and. . ."

He shook his head. "No," he said, hastily adding when he saw the confusion on her face. "No, I meant what I said at Happy and Toby's wedding. I fell in love with you shortly after we met, watching you stand through the sunroof of the Ferrari traveling over 200 miles per hour, clutching on to my laptop so the landing software could finish downloading."

She bit her lip. "That's oddly specific." Her voice had a strange quality to it, one he couldn't place.

"You didn't have to help us that day," he pressed on. "You could have told us to go to hell, probably should have told us to go to hell. But you wanted to be able to connect with your son, something in my experience parents had given up trying to do by the time their enabled children had reached Ralph's age. 

"When I saw how brave you were, as committed to saving those people as I was, probably even more so. . . I. . .I fell in love."

She was quiet for several minutes and the longer she remained silent, the more anxious he grew. Finally lifting her head, her eyes shimmering, she said softly, "But you kept telling me you didn't believe in love."

"I was a moron. It had never happened to me before. I didn't know what it was. All I knew was I wanted to be around you, talk to you, let you touch me. . ." He took a deep breath as a shiver ran up his spine as he recalled all the moments she'd touched him. . . With her hands and her body and her mouth. . . Tamping down his lust, he pushed the memories aside before continuing.

"And. . . And you talked to me like no other woman ever had before. You didn't put up with my bullshit, told me when I was being an ass. Looked at me like you wanted to connect with me as much as you did Ralph." His hands gripped the couch on either side of his legs. "I knew you were the one. And it scared the hell out of me."

"So you're telling me we could have been together. . ." she murmured. "That I could have actually had a choice?" She pressed her lips together. "I thought you were pushing me into Tim's arms because you didn't want me. If I had known. . . That you did. . . Oh, God. . ."

Walter furrowed his brow. What did she mean? She would have chose him over Tim? As much as he wanted to believe it, he knew it couldn't be true. She hadn't love him back then. Had she?"

"Would you. . ." he asked, deciding he needed to put some of his thoughts into words, "would you have. . .?

"Picked you?" she finished for him. She laughed, but there was no humor in it. "Walter, I already had." 

He watched as she lifted her hand and moved it in his direction. Four of her fingertips came to rest gently just above his knee. His muscles twitched underneath her touch as his breathing harshened, his heart beat faster, heat rushed through him like a raging inferno. 

"I don't remember the exact moment I knew," she continued, seemingly oblivious to his predicament. "I'd been having confusing dreams, ones where I thought I'd been with Drew. . ."

The thought of her. . .and her ex made his stomach queasy, even if it had just been in a dream. Shivering as if he'd been drenching in cold water, he tried to concentrate on what she was saying.

". . .but instead of him, you came out of the bathroom, sometimes in a bathrobe, sometimes not." Her cheeks glowed pink as he tried to comprehend what she was saying. "Then we had that case, the one where you had to let. . .Sima, Fatima, whatever the hell her name was. . .seduce you. . ."

"She didn't mean anything," he cut in defensively. "I. . ."

"I know." She glided her fingers over his kneecap then back up his thigh. The fire inside him reignited in an instant. "But seeing you kiss another woman. I didn't like it. Not at all. I wanted to scratch her eyes out." Her hand had traveled further up his leg and a groan tried to work its way out of his throat. "I think I'd had feelings for you for quite awhile, but I wasn't sure of them until later that night, when I saw you and Ralph, sitting on the couch while you read the robot spy book to him. . . My heart just melted.

"And you. . .and you still make my heart melt." She shifted slightly so she was looking right into his eyes. "I love you, Walter. I never stopped, despite everything that's happened. And if you. . .if you want. . . I'd like to try to make this experiment work again."

"I've never stopped loving you either," he stated, reaching out and taking her hand in his. "And for the record, this, us, our relationship. . . It was never an experiment to me. I love you and only you. For the rest of my life. And that's a fact."

"Oh, God, Walter." Tears were streaming unchecked down her face.

"And yes, I want to be together again." He ran his free hand over the back of his neck. "I don't know what to do to make that happen."

"I'm not sure either," she said. "Do you want to pick up where we left off? Or start over again? And do you want me back on the team, back with Scorpion? And what should I do with Centipede?"

"I'd like to pick up where we left off, minus the. . ."

"The clusterfuck at the end?" She smiled at him and he was dazzled for a moment.

"Yes, minus that." He sighed wearily. "If you want to keep Centipede. . . It's up to you. I-I, uh, I hired new people. . .and then there's. . ." Taking a deep breath, he extricated his hand from hers. "There's Florence."

She bit her lip to stifle a sob. "Her work as a chemist has proven invaluable on many occasions," he rambled on. "And she and I will only ever be friends." Walter paused for a moment, carefully choosing his next words. "And in the spirit of open and honest communication, I'd like to retain her services. Although after. . .after tonight, she may not want to stay."

"In the spirit of open and honest communication, I have to say I'm less than thrilled you still want to work with her." Paige reached for his hand, massaging his knuckles as she spoke. "In fact, I don't like it at all."

"I didn't think you would," he replied, little spirals of electricity winding their way from his fingers to his heart to regions of his body which didn't need much more stimulation. "But. . . But if you want me to fire her. . . I-I w-will. . ."

Her hand stilled. "You shouldn't have to," she said. "I should learn to deal with my issues and not take them out on innocent people. And I like her, despite everything. . ." She waved her hand dismissively. "I think she needs us, needs Scorpion." With a heavy sigh, she continued, "If she wants to stay. . . I can learn to deal with it. It just may take me some time before I trust her. . .alone with you."

"Uh, of course," he said, surprised and a little apprehensive she'd agreed. "Do you think the others. . .Happy, Toby, Sly. . . Do you think they want to come back?"

"I think they do," she said with a nod. "I. . . Well, I don't think they like my total democracy anymore than they liked your total dictatorship. And I have to admit, voting on every little decision is a pain in the ass." 

Over the next half hour, they hammered out the details of putting together the broken pieces of both their relationship and the team. "I think this will work," Paige said. "We merge the teams into one, if the others agree, let go your two new employees. . ."

"Mack's a good engineer, he'll find another job. But I still feel bad about Quincy. . ." Walter stated.

"He caused most of his own problems," Paige pointed out. "And you know we can't keep both him and Toby. It would be a. . ."

"Disaster." He smiled warily at her.

"And we get couples counseling," she stated. "To learn to live with our differences."

"Yes." Their plan sounded good, in theory. All they had to do was put it into practice. But until then, he wasn't sure what to do. It was late, she had to be exhausted. She probably was paying a babysitter to watch Ralph and needed to go home.

But he wanted to show her how much he loved her. How much he'd missed her the past six months. But he didn't want her to think he only wanted her for the sex. 

She'd grown quiet, darting little glances his way as they sat side by side on the sofa. Wondering if she was as confused as he was, he kept his gaze on their interlocked hands. Reveling in the softness and strength of her fingers, reliving how they'd felt touching him, loving him. . . He squirmed restlessly. He had to ask, take the risk. The worst thing that could happen would be if she said no. 

"Uh, do you. . ." they both said at the same time. She chuckled as he bit out a laugh. "You go first," she said.

He shook his head. "No, you. . ." he insisted.

"Oh, well. . . I, uh. . . Ralph is staying with. . ." She placed her hand on her throat. "Oh, no."

"What?"

"My necklace. . . It's gone." Heat flooded Walter's skin as she looked down her blouse, getting a glimpse of the tops of her breasts and her lacy bra. "Oh." Her mouth dropped open.

"What?" He was beginning to sound like a simpleton. Unclasping her hand, he scooted over, wedging his fingers between the couch cushions on the off chance her jewelry had fallen in the crack.

His futile search was disrupted by a very un-Paige like squeak. Looking up, he watched as Ferret Bueller wiggled across the coffee table, doing his weasel war dance. Something gold and glittery dangled from one of his front paws.

Walter and Paige turned to stare at each other then back at the ferret. "My necklace," she said at the same time he said, "Your necklace." 

"That little thief," she muttered, patting her hand on her cleavage as the image of the little critter nestling there filled Walter's mind.

They hopped up off the sofa simultaneously, each of them lunging at the triumphant ferret. He skittered away, chittering happily as he ducked under furniture and ran across tables and shelves as they chased him around the loft.

The slippery little fellow dashed into the bedroom, climbing up into the middle of Walter's bed. Twisting and turning in a celebratory fashion, he suddenly stopped and laid on his back, tangling the necklace in his paws in a taunting manner. 

Walter glanced over at Paige who was biting her lip. In frustration or to keep from laughing, he wasn't sure. He snuck a peek at the animal wallowing on his pillows then back at the woman beside him. He held up three fingers and she nodded. As soon as he lowered his hand, he began the silent countdown.

On three, he pounced on the bed at the exact moment Paige did. They both landed on the mattress with an "Oomph," causing the ferret to pop into the air. With a mocking squeak, the critter scampered off so swiftly he was nothing but a brown blur.

Walter laid stunned for a moment, disappointed he hadn't retrieved the necklace. Then he became acutely aware he was lying next to Paige, their hips and shoulders touching as they were stretched across his bed. He could tell by the way her body tensed, she'd come to the same realization.

Turning onto his side to face her as she did the same, he gravitated toward her, as if he were a helpless piece of steel caught up in her magnetic pull. 

"Walter." She breathed his name, and the sound of it on her lips made any thought of resisting useless. 

His hand trembled as he placed it on her hip. It slid almost of its own accord to rest on the small of her back. Hers was shaking just as badly as she first cupped his face before slipping her fingers into the hair at the back of his neck. His lips mashed onto hers or maybe hers mashed onto his. Her tongue pushed into his mouth or perhaps his pushed into hers. He moaned or maybe she did. Maybe they both did.

Clothing began to be tugged and pulled, unbuttoned and unzipped. She rolled onto her back and he came to rest on top of her. She spread her legs and he eased himself between them. It felt familiar yet new. Comfortable yet unnerving. Overwhelming happiness bubbled up inside him, only to blanketed with a sense of sorrow for the time they'd been apart.

He whispered her name, gazing into her shimmering hazel eyes. She bit her lip as she nodded. "I love you," she murmured.

"I love you too," he replied as he slowly moved inside her.

_____

Light streamed through the east-facing windows as Walter opened his eyes. With a stifled groan, he sat up, swinging his legs over the edge of the mattress before standing. Grabbing a pair of sweatpants from a dresser drawer, he put them on before making his way across the loft.

In the farthest corner of the room, he found the little nest Ferret Bueller had made for himself using cardboard box and one of Walter's old sweatshirts. The ferret was curled up into a tight ball next to his pile of pilfered loot. Among the spoons, paper clips, transistors and for some reason, his voltmeter, Walter spied Paige's necklace. As carefully as he could, he extracted it from the other detritus, mumbling a curse when it snagged on a pair of calipers. 

He freed it and it tangled around his fingers. With a jolt, he saw it was the one he'd given her at Christmas. A gold chain with three small hearts dangling from the tiny links. Fighting back a wave of emotions, he went back to the bedroom. Paige was awake, sitting up against the pillows with the sheet pulled up to cover her bare breasts. Her sad expression brightened as he approached and a grin graced his own face.

"I found it," he said as he held the necklace up so she could see. Sitting down next to her, he dropped it into her outstretched hand.

"Thanks." Paige poked at the piece of jewelry with her finger. "Oh," she said glumly, "the clasp must have broke."

"May I take a look?" Nodding, she gave it back to him. He examined the clasp, discovering it wasn't broken, just stuck in the open position. Giving it a couple of jiggles, it finally loosened so he could close it. He opened it back up and scooted closer to Paige, placing the chain around her neck. She twisted around, lifting her hair as he looped the clasp through the eyelet and slid it closed. 

"I fixed it."

"You sure did."

Paige placed her hands on either side of his head, letting the sheet drop as she kissed him.

_____

**FIN**


End file.
